"...I should’ve escaped the castle last night. If the assassin succeeded, they’ll suspect me. But the rabbit said no one will know. Can I trust him?..."

Ren’s eyes widened, his baby fingers gripping the edge of his crib. Wait, wait, WHAT! he mentally screamed, his newfound ability locking in tighter on her thoughts.

But thoughts weren’t enough. He needed proof—solid evidence of her betrayal.

With a surge of determination, Ren pushed deeper into her mind, brute-forcing the skill to access her memories. Images started to flicker in his head: the maid slipping into his room, the scared smile on her face as she nudged the window open, and then her retreating steps, disappearing into the shadows of the hallway.

But just as he thought he had a clear grip, her mental defenses slammed back at him like a wrecking ball. Pain shot through his skull as his connection severed, leaving his mind reeling.

"Ow, ow, ow!" he groaned, clutching his head as he flopped back into his crib. The maid’s memories vanished like smoke, leaving only fragments of what he had glimpsed.

Ren flopped back into his crib, a dull ache throbbing in his head from the mental backlash. His frustration bubbled up, but alongside it, a flood of questions. Why had the connection snapped? Why couldn’t he push deeper?

He replayed the experience in his mind, analyzing it with surprising clarity for someone his age. The guard’s thoughts had been an open book, easy to flip through—scattered and unprotected. The maid’s mind, however, had been different. At first, her thoughts had flowed naturally, her musings about chores and small frustrations. But the moment he tried to probe her memories, it was like hitting a steel wall.

What could’ve caused that? Ren mused, chewing on the edge of his blanket. It wasn’t that his skill was broken—he’d successfully read the guard’s mind earlier. And it wasn’t that the maid lacked thoughts; he’d heard enough to know she wasn’t as innocent as she pretended to be.

No, this was something else. Maybe... maybe her mind is stronger than mine. Ren thought, the idea dawning slowly.

It made sense, in a frustratingly logical way. Skills and abilities were commonplace in this world, and based on everything he’d experienced so far, the maid was likely no ordinary servant. Her smooth, deliberate movements, her uncanny precision with tasks, the way she always seemed to know when someone needed something—she wasn’t just skilled in her work; she was skilled, period.

Ren considered the strain he’d felt when trying to break into her memories. It hadn’t just been his skill failing—it felt like her mind had pushed back, forcing him out with overwhelming force. It’s like trying to push down a door that’s locked and bolted... and maybe enchanted for good measure.

His tiny brow furrowed as the pieces fell into place. If this world functioned on levels, stats, and skills like he suspected, then it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that attributes played a role in mental abilities too. If the maid’s attributes—whatever they were—were far beyond his own, then her mind might naturally resist his intrusion.

Ren sighed, annoyed by the conclusion but unable to deny its logic. "Stupid Level 1 skill. Stupid over-leveled maid," he muttered under his breath. How dare you out-skill me, you window-opening traitor.

Still, he wasn’t entirely disheartened. This little setback only confirmed something important: he needed to level up his abilities—and fast. The next time he clashed with that traitorous maid, he wouldn’t settle for scraps of her thoughts. He’d see everything.

Alright, you conniving window-opener, I’ll catch you in the act. Just you wait. I might be small now, but you’re messing with the wrong baby.

The doors to Ren’s room creaked open, and the morning light spilled in, casting a long shadow of the maid onto the floor. Ren sat upright in his crib, his tiny head tilting ever so slightly as he watched her enter. She carried herself with a practiced grace, but the moment her eyes flicked toward the windows, her shoulders visibly relaxed.

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A soft sigh escaped her lips. “Closed,” she muttered under her breath, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. But as she turned her gaze toward the crib and saw Ren sitting there, alive and very much alert, her entire demeanor shifted.

Her face was drained of color. Her pupils widened. And then came the telltale bead of sweat, rolling slowly down her temple. Ren didn’t miss the slight hitch in her breath or the way her hands gripped her apron tightly.

Gotcha Ren thought gleefully.

Focusing his budding telepathic skill, he let the faint whispers of her mind trickle into his own. They were surface-level thoughts, scattered and frantic:

"Impossible. He was supposed to—no, this isn’t right. Did I miss something? The rabbit, the poison... the window!"

Ren’s tiny lips curled into a mischievous smile, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. The maid’s heart was pounding so loudly he could almost hear it without his skill.

But then, with a visible effort, she began to calm herself. She straightened her back, smoothing her apron as if wiping away her guilt along with the creases. Her breathing steadied, and a carefully neutral expression settled on her face.

“Good morning, young master,” she said sweetly, her voice betraying none of the storm that had raged moments before.

Ren blinked up at her, playing the part of an innocent baby perfectly. But inside, he was practically bursting with glee. You can act all you want, missy. I know the truth now.

The maid moved toward the crib, her hands still trembling ever so slightly as she adjusted the blankets around him. Ren cooed, letting out a soft baby-like sound, masking the triumphant laugh bubbling in his chest.

She thought she’d covered her tracks. But Ren wasn’t going to let this go. You’re sweating bullets, traitor. Keep it up. I’ll have you cornered soon enough.

The maid finished her job with the precision of a professional, treating Ren like a royal baby. She bathed him, dressed him in new clothes, and made sure he looked cute enough to get all the attention in the world. Ren, still half-betrayed, half-skeptic of the maid, couldn’t help but be glued to her every move.

Once he was all snuggled up in the crib like the world’s tiniest emperor, the maid stepped back, wiped her hands on her apron, and muttered something in a language Ren couldn’t quite catch. It sounded like gibberish to him, but the air suddenly felt... charged.

What was that? Ren’s little brain went into overdrive.

He tilted his head, and his eyes grew wide as he watched her hands rise in a perfectly practiced, graceful arc. Is she trying to swat a fly or something? He stared at her, intensely.

The maid muttered a few more words, and then—bam—a weird wave of magic whooshed through the room like someone had just swiped the dust off the floor with a giant invisible broom. He blinked, watching as the dust vanished into thin air. The room was now cleaner than his already pristine mind.

Wait. Hold up. Is she... casting a spell? Ren’s brain stuttered as he tried to make sense of it. Magic? Real magic?

How the heck is she doing that with just her mouth?

Ren’s mind was buzzing like a bee in a jar. She hadn’t touched anything. She hadn’t even used a wand. Just words. The air had literally bent to her will. He’d seen his own little telekinetic powers in action, but this? This was a whole new level. This is wizard-level stuff. Like potter. Magic and words? Ren was all in on this new form of world domination.

He wanted to know EVERYTHING. How did it work? Was it like a recipe, where you just need the right words to make the magic happen? Were there magic cheat codes he could unlock?

Before Ren could completely lose himself in his newfound obsession with magic, the maid turned toward the door. She gave him one last, casual look, as if nothing had happened.

Oh, come on! Not now! Ren’s tiny frown deepened as he felt the connection to her thoughts snap like a rubber band. The buzz in his head faded into the distance, leaving him in complete mind-silence.

He sighed dramatically—well, as dramatically as a tiny baby could—and settled back into the crib. Fine. I’ll just figure it out later. You haven’t seen the last of me, Lady Maid. Magic or not, I’m coming for you next time!